


Roses and Jasmine

by Carmarthen



Category: Tortall - Pierce
Genre: Angst, Character of Color, F/F, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-05
Updated: 2010-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-05 20:26:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmarthen/pseuds/Carmarthen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buri is losing her princess, and she <i>really</i> doesn't like Jonathan of Conté.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roses and Jasmine

**Author's Note:**

> From Adri's prompt: hair, calluses, skin, [mood=sultry/lazy]. Title suggested by Marbenais.
> 
> I adore Buri, so why do I so often torture her?

"You'll lose all your calluses," Buri observed, not looking at Thayet. She could hear the rasp of the scouring stone over Thayet's feet and the gentle splash of water against the sides of the tub.

Thayet laughed. "That's my Buri."

Buri scowled, although Thayet could not see her to appreciate it properly. "Well, you will."

"We've been walking for months," Thayet said. "I'd just like to have soft feet for a little while."

"That's how it always starts," Buri said darkly. "First it's soft feet, then it's perfumed underwear and being somebody's queen and not starting an orphanage with your best friend like you said you wanted."

Thayet laughed again, a clear, ringing sound like bells. Everything Thayet did was beautiful, and tonight it made Buri feel awkward and sullen. "Come brush my hair, heart of my heart?" Thayet said. "The comb is on the table over there."

Buri flushed, but picked up the comb and walked over to the tub. Fortunately for her blush, which was threatening to spread to her ears, the torchlight reflected off the water, obscuring Thayet below the shoulders.

Thayet had lovely shoulders, pale and smooth, like the shoulders of a moon maiden in one of Kalasin's stories.

Buri slipped one hand under Thayet's damp hair, scooping it off her neck. Thayet shivered a bit and sank deeper into the cooling water. Her hair smelled like roses and jasmine, the expensive soap the Tortallan prince had sent. Buri thought it was an overly familiar gift.

She did not like Jonathan of Conté.

The ivory comb slid smoothly through Thayet's hair, black as Buri's but wavy from her Saren father. It curled more tightly when damp and clung to Buri's fingers. Thayet was humming softly in her throat, almost a purr, her eyes closed and her arms relaxed on the rim of the tub. "This is nice," she said lazily, her voice heavy and warm. "I wish we could stay like this forever."

"I suppose princesses can't," Buri said, pulling the comb through Thayet's hair harder than she had intended. Thayet gasped, and Buri mumbled an apology.

"I'm sorry about the orphanage," Thayet said. "I truly am. I just--I can do more for people, as queen of Tortall."

"Yes," Buri said. "I know." Her voice came out clipped and harsher than she had intended, and Thayet flinched.

"I like Jonathan a lot," Thayet said softly. She had turned to look at Buri, and her eyes begged for understanding that Buri could not give.

Her princess was leaving her forever, for the stupid Northern prince and his stupid kingdom. Oh, Buri would stay by her side -- she had sworn to protect Thayet until death--but Thayet would be _his_.

Buri _wanted_ to open that orphanage. She liked children, and she liked how Thayet's face lit up around children. She wanted a peaceful life with Thayet, no intrigue or assasins or court games.

They had been so close to realising that dream--_their_ dream, Buri had thought. And now Thayet would marry Jonathan of Conté and become his queen, and Buri would guard her in silence until one of them died.

It was all the fault of stupid Jonathan of Conté and his stupid charm and stupid crown.

"I understand," Buri said, trying to make her voice kinder, but she did not understand at all. "There, your hair is combed."

Thayet caught her hand and kissed it, a butterfly-soft touch of her lips. Buri shivered. "Oh, Buri," Thayet said. "I hope you won't always be angry at me for this."

"You know I can't be angry with you for long," Buri said. In time this hurt would become another hard, cold knot near her heart, like Mother and Pathom, to be left alone and not thought upon. In time.


End file.
